It's A Wonderful Slytherin Life
by LameBicycle98
Summary: HPDM Christmas Eve and Draco wants to end it all. An Angel in the form of Severus Snape helps him understand that there might be a certain someone worth living for.
1. In Which Draco Does Something Rash

A/N: Alright. This is my first Harry/Draco fic. It's a request for a friend as I think it's her favorite pairing. I enjoy it too, especially the art. Anyhow, just so you're all aware, it takes place in the seventh year of Hogwarts. Book six never happened. Which means Dumbledore is still alive and Snape is still lurking in the dungeons and Draco is still at school being a prat. But he's such a cute prat. I haven't decided if Voldemort is defeated yet. So jsut for now he's a lurking shadow who may be dead and just traumatized everyone or he's alive and is... traumatizing everyone.

As always, I own nothing (that honor belongs to J.K. Rowling)and am making no profit what so ever. Nope, none. Not a cent. I'd like a few cents, but I suppose I should go and work at my real job except they don't pay that much. Alas.

So, without further ado...

It's a Wonderful Slytherin Life

Chapter 1

It was a cold winter's day at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizarding. It was the middle of the Christmas Hols, which meant that much of the student body and staff had taken the much needed break and traveled back home or on some exotic vacation. At school, however, the people who remained were cheered to see a light feathering of snow that covered the ground and the half frozen over lake where the giant squid resided. The squid, taking this change in temperature to mean hibernation was in order, was taking hard-earned snooze on the bottom of the lake (after all, it was a pain to be constantly hauling wayward children out of the lake) and dreamt of a white picket fence and two-point-five mini squids squirting around him. He also dreamt of a large and sleek female mate for him. He had lodged numerous complaints with the headmaster about getting him a companion but as far as he could tell nothing had been done about it. This, however, is not the story of the giant squids long politically driven battle to gain him a swimming companion (though if you really want to know he eventually won this, only to find out that the mate he had been given was infertile. His mate was also male and a cross-dresser. Sure, he had been ready to turn him back (it's not that he had anything wrong with gay-cross-dressing squid, oh no, there's nothing wrong with _that_.) but for one long cold night where they somehow found each other in a tentacle-crazy embrace.

"I wish I knew how to quit you!" was heard quite often from the lake, though since nobody understood squid-speak this was lost on the general populace) but rather the story of how one young boy had his life saved.

You see, on this particular night there was a flash of warm breath on the night air, and a head a shock-white hair drifting off towards the lake. Here, the heir of the illustrious Malfoy fortune was making his way on unsteady feet, twisting against his own body and a slight breeze. In another light it might have seemed like he was drunk and was performing a most hilarious dance but for the painful, sober desperation of it all.

This is how Draco Malfoy found himself, on his hands and knees, on the Eve of Christmas, looming over the edge of the half frozen lake and putting serious thought to dropping himself in and ending the Malfoy line for good.

And there, at the edge of all things, the boy leaned in. He welcomed with his bright, shining eyes and apple-blossomed cheeks the sweet release that whispered and promised him ephemeral wonders in their murky depths. However, like most of the half-thought out plans of this boys life, it failed miserably. A black-clothed arm snaked out and, grasping the sputtering boy by his collar, wrenched him upright and threw him to the ground. Draco heaved and raised hard eyes to his little appreciated savior, only to be met by the baleful glare of his head of house, Severus Snape.

"Sir?" said the youth with wide, grey eyes.

"You're in luck, Mr. Malfoy. I am not your dour professor. I am, in fact, your guardian angel," drawled the man, who, if indeed was not the professor, sounded a great deal like him.

"There's no such things as guardian angels," said Draco as he racked his mind through his Care of Magical Creatures class. Deciding that they hadn't ever discussed it nor ever read about them they must not exist. "And if you were, why would you look like Snape?" he raised an eyebrow.

"I decided to take a form that would command some respect out of you, as I realized that anyone else would have caused you to act like an insufferable prat and I would be forced to hex you into next Tuesday, thus denying me my chance for getting my wings," he raised a hand when Draco made to interrupt him. "I'll explain later. Now, why were you trying to drown yourself? I doubt you have the same fascination as muggles do for laps in freezing cold water."

"I was... I was..."

"What was that, Mr. Malfoy? I can't understand your mumbling."

"I was trying to kill myself!" cried Draco, rushing to his feet and giving his supposed guardian angel a glare that would cause many first years, even the Slytherins, to blanch. When Snape gave no expression, not even that of acknowledgment, Draco felt his eyes, unbidden, water and a tear trace its way down his face. He angrily brushed it away.

"And why did you believe this ridiculous course of action was your best, or, as the case may be, only choice:

"It's better than being alive!" he practically screeched. "Do you know how hard it is to wake up in the morning and have absolutely nothing to live for? To know that your entire life has been an absolute waste? And that everything you could possibly want is fleetingly out of your grasp? Do you?"

"Oh Boo. Hoo." said the professor-angel. Draco's jaw dropped at the lack of sympathy.

"Excuse me?" he narrowed his eyes. Nobody talked to Draco Malfoy that way. If he wanted sympathy, then, damnit, he got sympathy.

"Figures even a seventh-year dunderhead like you could not grasp two single syllables. Shall I reiterate? Boo. Hoo. Now, stop your whining and inform me what the problem is. The sooner we get this over with the sooner I can return."

"Return where?" asked Draco suspiciously.

"Where do you think angels come from, the girls loo?"

Draco shook his head. He was tempted to lay his heart out to this man, even if he did look like his head of house. However, he was pretty sure that Snape would never a) save his life and b) ask what the problem was. Draco considered that he might be hallucinating, but it seemed too real. The cold wind felt too harsh against his face. No, this was real. And something known as a "guardian angel" in the form of his snarky potions professor was offering his help. Draco felt so downtrodden, so despicably needy, that he just decided to have himself a quaint little pity party.

"It would have been better if I have never been born."

Had Draco been looking up he would have seen the eyes of the potions master/guardian angel sparkling. However, he didn't, and that all-too-human moment was lost on him.

"Oh really?" he lovingly caressed those words in his silky voice. "Who would it have been better for, Draco? You? Certainly. If you never existed you wouldn't have these problems. Or are you being, dare I say, altruistic? Is there someone you think would be better off if you had never popped into existence?"

"Yes," said the boy bitterly, though no amount of coaxing and threatening would get him to say who.

It had begun first year, actually. When that bespectacled prat had refused his magnanimous offer of friendship. From then on Draco decided to make the boys life hell, or at the very least constantly remind him in the most annoying way possible just what it meant to turn down a Malfoy. Then somewhere along the way he stopped hating him which only caused him to question if he hated him in the first place. He was jealous, sure. The git was constantly stealing away everything that should have been Draco's. Draco's house cup, Draco's Quidditch cup, Draco's glory, pride, and well, everything. But instead of feeling loathing for his envy he felt something akin to awe. But no, not real awe. Malfoys don't feel awe for anyone except, perhaps, when looking in a mirror. And yet, whenever he saw that face with its mop of hair and that scar that everyone recognized, he felt like it was something that belonged to him. His to hate, his to own, maybe even his to love.

No, no, that was ridiculous. Malfoys don't love. They feel affection, but they don't love. It's a weak emotion. No, he hated Potter. He didn't like Potters smiling face, and he didn't like his half-assed concentration in the potions classroom, and he didn't like his stern face and blazing eyes when he was angry, or the look of something utterly lost, like a humbled lion, when he was defeated and abandoned.

So why was it that his thoughts were constantly on the scar head, _the hero._ Why was it that he wanted to push him up against the corridor and show him that yes, he hated him, he hated him so damn much, and that he would always be there, hating his scar and his face and his body and his gryffindor courage. Draco wanted to show him that he would always be there, comforting in his hatred, like a constant pain reminding the hero that he was alive and he had something to fight for, something to live for.

Draco, however ignorant sometimes, was not naive. He knew his feelings would not be returned. In fact he wasn't even sure Potter went in for that sort of thing. And, even if he did, Draco had spent his years making damn sure that even if Potter might be attracted to him, Draco was off limits. Slytherins and Gryffindors, after all, were not meant to mate.

And it would be a cold day in hell before he ever told that to some freaky greasy-haired angel with a button fetish.

"Mister Malfoy," barked said angel, looking annoyed at having been ignored for so long. Draco shook his thoughts away and stared, obviously having forgotten the strange mans presence. "I've an idea. In the next three hours I will show you just what it would be like if you indeed had never existed. If at the end you still feel the need to end your life I won't stop you. Do we have a deal?"

Draco looked at the man's proffered hand and thought _oh, what the hell. _They shook on it.

"So, what do I call you, anyhow? If you're not Professor Snape, that is."

"You're sure as hell not calling me Clarence," the angel muttered under his breath.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"Nothing. Since I look like your professor you may address me as such. Or as sir. Understood? Excellent. Now, come here," he drew out his wand.

"Hey!" Draco narrowed his eyes. "Why do you have a wand if you're an angel?"

"It's easier for your simple mind to grasp if I do actions that you're already familiar with. Now look here, we've only three hours and I'm not about to waste them teaching you the finer points of how angels operate. You will be silent and pay attention, am I clear?"

Draco nodded his consent. Snape then tapped Draco on the head twice, muttered an incantation, and then placed his wand in the lake. Immediately it started shining silver and swirled.

"Come," beckoned Snape, who quite unexpectedly walked into the lake. A few seconds later, a much confused Draco followed.

A/N: Well that was exciting. I could probably use a beta. Anyone interested? Review if you are. Also, for everyone else, if you want to see chapter 2 then you'd best review. Yes, I also hate how that rhymed.


	2. In Which Severus Chats With His Charge

A/N: Hey guys. Here's part two. I'm thinking this will either be a six-seven parter in total. Chapter three is being written as we speak. Not sure when I'll be getting it up as I'll be working all this weekend and Monday as well. How cruel. Anyhow, please enjoy and don't forget to review

I own nothing.

It's a Wonderful Slytherin Life Part II

(clearly titles are not my forte)

When Draco once more came to himself he realized that he was in some sort of white room, a boxed in room to be exact. He recalled with alacrity the stories that he had heard from a swarm of third year muggleborn Hufflepuffs who would talk in hushed whispers about men in white coats would come and take people away to rooms such as these. He had always thought that the little buggers had been over-reacting. Hufflepuffs were known for it anyhow - half of them were high and the other half too afraid to be acting like anything other than high. It's why they were so willing to help.

Yet now, in this room he felt the overwhelming pressure on his chest. Veritable panic. Had the Hufflepuffian white men come for him? Had he really committed suicide and everything had just been some sort of freakish fantasy? Was he in that hell muggles so adamantly claim to be true?

And just when he had been about to soil himself and cause a premature cardiac arrest a hand lightly fell upon his shoulder, and with the slight pressure came a calming force. Draco took a deep breath and visibly relaxed. He centered himself.

"Where we are, Mr Malfoy," began the silken rumble of Severus Snape behind him, "is a place to begin building. It's a handy trick known by those who teach arithmancy and, though I'd be loathe to say they do it much good, divination.. It's a room of possibilities. Think of it as a tabula rasa of the mind. You brought up an interesting situation that I think we should explore. What would it be like if one Draco Malfoy did not exist, hm?" Draco looked a might perplexed.

"What are you talking about?"

Severus sighed and rolled his eyes. "I know you don't have a penchant for listening in class, Mr. Malfoy, but perhaps you will do me the honor," he sneered the word, "of giving me your undivided attention now. This is for your benefit, though I suspect with the way you were raised that is the norm as opposed to a once in a lifetime opportunity."

Draco, as to be expected, wasn't listening. He was Slytherin enough to realize that Professor Snape stopped talking and took his opportunity there.

"So you're a what now, a Guardian angel?"

"Excellent recap of the last ten minutes. It's no surprise you are second only to miss Granger in grades," he sneered.

"For a Guardian angel, you sure are snarky."

"When I took this form I also took on his personality," he drawled with a smirk. "How lucky of you."

"So this is what your kind does? You go around waiting until your charges try to off themselves and then whisk them away to a blank room in the middle of nowhere? I'm starting to believe that this is a hangup for lechers."

If it was possible Snape's face darkened moreso than its usual black effect. His lank hair fell forward to almost cover his entire face but for the look of dark, dangerous, inky eyes glaring. Draco shuddered under that gaze and for the first time wished that he had the better sense to shut the hell up once in awhile. And then, suddenly, just as fast as it had come, Snapes face went blank. Visibly walls snapped up leaving him a wall of emotionlessness with only a smirk gracing his face.

"Would you like that, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked softly. Draco blanched. And stuttered. And backed away. And felt a sudden need to have an out of body experience so that he was very, very far away.

"Oh, get a hold of yourself," Snape rolled his eyes. "Now, we're going to have this damned experiment, you'll have an epiphany, and then we can all go back to our respective positions." Snape reached into his robed and pulled out an object and handed it to Draco. Draco looked at it oddly. It was a bell.

"Ring it, you dunderhead."

Draco rang the bell. When Snape raised a delicate eyebrow, he sighed and continued to ring it. As the dainty little sound echoed through the room and pleased, almost glazed over look came over his eyes. He looked up towards the ceiling and said "you'll have to give me a pair sometime you twinkling bastard."

"Uh, sir?" Draco

Snape sighed. "I suppose you want to continue. Alright. Stop that incessant ringing! Now. As I was saying, this room is open to possibilities. We will be working with your suggestion earlier tonight. What would the world be like if one Draco Malfoy had never existed?"

"Pleasant," said Draco succinctly.

"For me that's a given. Perhaps even for you," there went that eyebrow again. "however, let's make this interesting, shall we?" by now he had brandished his wand and was twirling it with perverse delight in his fingers. "Instead of seeing how the world is in general, let's see how your lack of existence matters to one individual. Perhaps, shall we say, that person you desire above all others?" Draco gave him a sharp look.

"What do you mean by that?" he said suspiciously.

"Exactly what I said, Mr. Malfoy. Now let's see who it is you're secretly pining over." Snape touched his wand to Draco's head and smirked. "I do hope it's not Miss Parkinson. That would just be too predictable."

And stretching out his wand he said a small incantation and pointed it in front of him. Draco started to protest but it was too late. Out from the wand came a silvery wisp of smoke. Eventually it started to take a shape, a shape that looked very similar to a boy with a mop of dark hair that was sticking up, glasses, green eyes and a peculiar lightning scar in his brow.

"Potter?" Snape was torn between laughing and a sudden urge to murder something. "You desire Potter!"

Draco glared at him. "Hey I didn't say I was proud of it okay! I can't help who I love."

"You love him? You ignorant child! You don't even know if he likes... if he swings..." he made a large sweeping motion of his hand, indicating all of Draco. "If he... oh hell, if he even would return your affections on a level of mutual attraction."

"I know that!" Draco snapped. "I know it's wrong. He's a Gryffindor, the boy-who-doesn't-want-to-die, my father hates him, I'm pretty sure I hate him, and he's all I bloody think about."

"Hate and love are surprisingly similar emotions," mused Snape.

"That's ridiculous," sniffed Draco.

"You think so?" Snape drawled. "They're both powerful. If that headmaster is to be believed love is the only thing keeping the boy alive. The dark lord, on the other hand, is only capable of hatred. Do you think it was merely his ambition and fear of death keeping him alive those years before his re-emergence? It was his hatred and his desire to take his revenge on those who opposed him which fuels him, just as love fuels your young would-be paramour" he sneered, "to go up against a wizard who has more power in his little finger than the boy does in his entire body."

"Similarities have to be stronger than just based on their driving potential," argued the young boy, whipping his white hair out of his eyes.

"You hurt the ones you hate, you hurt even more, the ones you love. You seem to know that well enough," Snape looked off in the distance, his face glazed again.

Draco seemed like he was about to argue but a sudden thought came to him. He had hurt Harry, he supposed. That petty rivalry of theirs. The more he felt he loved him the more he antagonized him. It was the only way to cover up the emotions, after all. It was also the way to hide them from himself as well. Him, loving a half-blood Gryffindor, ridiculous! And still, it was there. He hated how Harry made him feel - like the ferret him and his friends had so often made fun of him for being.

He was like a ferret. Slipping across his emotions on little white feet. Yellow feet, he, thought bitterly. That's what they should be. Yellow, cowardly feet. There was a pressure on Draco's chest again, though it was welcome. He had felt it on and off for years now, to varying degrees. And each time he felt that pressure there was a flash of green eyes in his mind, not so different from the flash of the Avada Kedavra curse.

Once he had heard his father regaling his death eater friends about the tale of how Lily Potter had died and Harry was bequeathed his famous scar. Never knowing the color of the late Lily's eyes, he imagined it must have been that green light from Voldemort's wand that stained his irises.

When Harry looked at him, sometimes, with that loathing, that concentrated wrath, Draco would feel a part of himself shrivel under that gaze, like those eyes could suck life as well.

"Sir," said Draco, snapping out of his haunted reverie. "How will Harry's life he affected if I wasn't around?" Snape blinked, then turned to look at the boy, as if just remembering his presence.

"We shall see. Now, close your eyes and concentrate, Mr. Malfoy. This will only hurt for a second..."


End file.
